Page 70 of Soul of a Psycho

I’ve ruined an angel.

I quickly grab the discarded cloak and wrap it around her shoulders. For the first time in what seems like hours, I can feel the air on my skin, and it’s not friendly. There’s a bite to the chill, and we’re pretty far out into the woods. And, like an asshole, I shredded Sky’s meager clothes. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Well, it looks like there’s no going back to the party,” Sky says wryly, trying to smooth her hair.

“No.” I hang my head and scoop her up. “I’ll take you back to your dorm.”

I try to keep her head tucked under my chin as I traipse through the brush, but it only takes ten minutes of walking for her to start chattering. I could kick myself for losing control like that. For fuck’s sake, that skull faced fuck could have been watching, and I basically put her on display for him.

I quicken my pace and clench my jaw. I knew we shouldn’t have gone to the party. One, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to play nice in society, and two, because I haven’t figured out whoheis yet. But Sky was adamant that we would all be together—safe in numbers—and then I went and led her into the woods, isolating us.

When we come to the residence quad, I make sure to keep to the walls. The faculty knows about the senior Halloween party, choosing to look the other way, but if we happen to get stopped, there’s going to be questions about the blood, the whereabouts of Sky’s clothes, and my hand. It’s bad enough that I’m sure to hear about Bentley, unless he keeps his mouth shut. Which is a possibility because I could narc on his little drug dealing business. One insinuation and a random search, and he’ll be done at Hillcrest. Even though that doesn’t work for my plans. He’s one of the people I want in the crowd on graduation.

I slip us inside Lamb Hall and tread quietly up the stairs. The fourth floor is cleared out, everyone probably still getting drunk in the woods, and I make my way towards the showers.

“My room is—” Sky starts when I make a turn halfway down.

“I know where your room is.” I want to roll my eyes.

I could find her room in my sleep. I know exactly how many divots are in the wood door. How the handle is slightly loose. How it has a two-inch gap at the floorboards. I know that it creaks when it reaches a forty-degree angle, and that if you pull up you can avoid it.

What I don’t know is if the light from the showers shines into the hall. But better safe than sorry if Martha comes looking for any trouble, so I leave it off and set Sky down. There’s three high windows that let moonlight in, and it reflects off the tiles in a blue glow, casting enough light to get around.

I twist one of the stall handles to hot and pull off my shirt.

“You’re… taking a shower?” Sky whispers.

“We’retaking a shower.” I pull her towards me.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Sky

Ishouldn’t feel shy as I step under the water, completely naked, but I do. A heat of the moment thing in the woods is one thing, but showering together feels… intimate. And Cade’s large frame takes up most of the stall, causing me to huddle against his body to fit. I keep my eyes down as the hot water cascades around us, and watch rivulets drip down his stomach and pour off his dick. Within seconds, the water turns red as it meets my skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice husky with a whisper.

“For what?” I ask, and he tilts my chin up.

I’m met with a dark stare of remorse that I don’t understand.

“For…” He rubs his thumbs over my cheeks, breaking down the dried blood. “Being crazy.”

I make a quiet scoff. “That wasn’t crazy. Bentley deserves much worse than the threat of getting lit on fire for what he did.”

I’m starting to think the real crazy is people who do things without cause. There was noreasonfor Bentley to do that to Cade, but there was every reason for Cade to do what he did. Crazy is unreasonable, and that’s not Cade. It didn’t even happen to me andIwant to watch Bentley burn.

I purse my lips in hatred, and Cade stops wiping my cheeks, a crooked smirk gracing the corner of his mouth.

“It seems insanity is contagious,” he says.

I blush under what feels like praise.

“But that’s not… that’s not what I was referring to…” he continues.

He pulls his hand back, palm facing me, and I get my first look at the deep gash. Blood still leaks from it, and I wince at how much it must hurt.

“That’s not…” I place his hand under the water, trying to clean it, unsure what to say, because itiscrazy. The way I got off on his blood is not… It’s notright.But god, did it feel good to be coated in him. I basically asked for more—didn’t stop him from hurting himself to give it to me either. I was the one being crazy.

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